Trouble's Lament
by CampionSayn
Summary: 5 and 1 Things produced from the question: What if Orihime had been less passive in her stay at Hueco Mundo?


_5 Probables_  
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Her face hurt.

Actually most of everything on her left side hurt since Szayel put half of her in a box and started doing _things_ she couldn't see, but could certainly _feel_.

Honestly, though, if she focused on the rest, instead of the one thing, which had slightly bigger implications, then she'd likely start crying. Precisely what the mad scientist wanted.

She didn't like to be bitter, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

Anyway, it had been weeks since he'd been especially horrible to her, talking about how things were going with her friends fighting Aizen's forces and how the young man _(who he just called her Replacement, rather than by his name–same as everyone else, she supposed; poor Hanataro)_ she'd sent her fairies to was developing.

Part of her was glad that Ichigo and the others were still doing their best, despite how things were, but part of her wanted them to just go back to the Seireitei where it was safe.

When he was especially nasty and sounded more insane than usual in his rambling and raving, as he was this evening, she would try to remember poetry her brother used to read her; it was in English for the tests he'd wanted to remember if he wanted to major in something for college if he ever became dissatisfied with his job and she had taken to remembering what she could and reading the American to Japanese dictionary he'd left behind.

 _("...The sun's gone dim, and the moon's turned black; for...I loved him and... he didn't love back..")_

The hardest part, that kept her somber, quiet, and without giving him the impression that she was ignoring him as much as she was able, was that she had a hard time remembering who wrote the poetry.

Her visible eye traced the ceiling where some cracks seemed to be making themselves more noticeable, dust flittering down to the floor without his notice as she tried to remember the next set of poetry from her memory.

When the walls begin to shake, he stopped talking.

A blessing in and of itself because his voice can become too high or too low, depending on whether or not he was getting too excited about his findings on the shinigami information given to him by the lower Arrancar, or was getting irritated that he still couldn't make her scream when he inserted sharp objects or set about taking liquid from his beakers and applied it where she assumed her left eye used to be before he yanked it out and scorched the surrounding area with acid.

When the wall caves in, stone and wood flying everywhere, it's surprising, but Szayel being cut off mid-sentence in saying hello to whoever it was–a very loud yelp, hiss and something like a pop ringing clearly in the space between where Orihime was tied down on a slab and where his body seemed to crash to the ground–is more than that.

She stays quiet when footsteps come nearer, not being very able to speak well anymore anyway, but when she finds herself in company of three, she wants to try.

Their looking down on her gets the horrible electric light constantly going at full tilt from all of the machines, screens and the like are a blessing as well.

Grimmjow looks far angrier than she was once used to, months ago. Even around Ulquiorra or the other members of the Espada that annoyed him with their mere presence. His reiatsu was a lot more prickly to go with the dark look on his face.

Kurosaki-kun looks like he's going to be sick, hands clawing at the thick black, metal box bolted to the table blocking off half of her visage, the key nowhere to be found. From her experience, Szayel had a habit of taking the little piece of metal with him or putting it where she could see it to taunt her or something equally petty.

Didn't seem to matter to Kurosaki-kun, given that he ran back over to Szayel's body, kicked the blood saturated man over and started pawing at him. She could actually see the double entry point from the crossing of two swords that would have _definitely_ been the cause for Szayel to be silent. Or dead. Probably dead.

Hanataro-san looks hail and, well, out of breath, but her hairpins are pinned to the upper part of his robes and are both intact. He actually seems more tan and more… _more_ …than in their last encounter.

...Oh, her _fairies_!

She hadn't noticed, but it seemed that Tsubaki and Shun'O were using Grimmjow as transportation. The angriest of the six seemed to be holding Shun'O up, the blonde fairy listing a little to the side as they both fluttered down from the Espada and over to Orihime.

She was pleased beyond measure to have the both of them touch her face, checking what they could before being freed, if Ichigo had his way. It felt like relief.

* * *

Orihime had found a way to get the Shun Shun Rikka to her friends in the safest way possible, because sitting in a room with blank walls and basically unchanging scenery meant that her mind had a habit of wandering into the truly craziest of her own thoughts and the most mundane or pleasant or horrible of her memories.

A Garganta. One that was new, or one that was closed was of little consequence, as long as they could get to it without being caught; by Ulquiorra or Nnoitra or the lesser Arrancar that seemed to take turns being frightened of or disgusted with Orihime for existing. The fairies needn't be with Orihime herself to enact a command, she just had to give an order and have them proceed as well as possible, after all.

Tsubaki had been livid, screaming that she could not honestly be that stupid, they weren't leaving her alone, she might die! Shun'O, for once, had been in agreement with him, anxiety fast to his posture and coming off in waves, like he was putting her to death with his own hands.

She had expected more resistance, but they were the designated leaders and, sometimes, their caring didn't allow them to think, as Hinagiku stated pointedly but with Baigon at his back offering gentleness to the statement as Lily and Ayame said nothing with resignation on their faces and their fluttering so somber.

They didn't _want_ to do it, but Orihime couldn't bare the thought of using them like canons and poison in doing Aizen's bidding, and they understood that she had put in much thought to the plan before she'd even asked them to say goodbye.

She'd taken the hairpins from her tresses, handed one to Shun'O and one to Tsubaki, telling them which way to go outside her window, to follow a stream of reishi that would lead to the pathway that Nnoitra had opened in the days previous before he had gone to defeat Chad, and told them to use Soten Kisshun to either take the Garganta to Karakura and find Ichigo's father or Ryuuken-san. Failing going to Karakura, they were to go to the Seireitei and find Hanataro.

"My friends need a healer. After all the time we've had together, that's the one thing I know."

Orihime knew that she'd probably never see them again, but she loved them and everyone else too much and refused to despair in her choice. So she'd wished them good luck and sent them out into the night...

Heavy of heart and weighed down by the agonizing guilt and grief as they were, the six found the stream and did as they were bid mere hours later; opening the Garganta into the Seireitei.

Nobody noticed them until they were suddenly before a nerve-wracked Hanataro, the young shinigami having been before Unohana in consideration for going with Byakuya into Hueco Mundo to aid Rukia and the others.

This had been the best confirmation ever that Orihime had not betrayed anyone; however, given that while the fairies would be able to assist the 4th Division through Hanataro, they would under no circumstances be given to anyone else, as Tsubaki had stated quite plainly, spitting mad and ready to rip Yamamoto and Unohana apart at the first chance he got after being grilled about Orihime's whereabouts and health and mental condition and why she had left without a word in the first place, _"The woman said we'd be going to Hanataro. The brat might be a pussy, but he helped the Kurosaki bastard when you worthless sacks of shit wanted to execute Rukia for doing the right thing. And you fucked up pretty bad with that Aizen fucker, so we're not doing anything you say. Shut your bitch-ass faces up and let us do our job._ "

Hanataro was glad for the help, at least, even if he seemed to tremble and stutter over the incantation to call them every time it was needed, be it for battle or healing or protection. It was new, and the shield fairies, as well as Ayame genuinely liked him with the battles that came and moments of breathing space afforded for them to get to know him. However, unsurprisingly, Tsubaki would not be likely to ever truly warm up to the healer, turning his face to the black sky once they were back in Hueco Mundo, so close and at once so far from any kind of ending her thought might be appropriate; missing the woman he always scolded. And the blonde healer that was supposed to lead, was supposed to be the kindest and most forthright...it seemed that Shun'O had been suffering sympathy pains almost the moment, far away, out of sight and where he shouldn't have been able to feel anything, Aizen had discovered Orihime without her hairpins and turned her over to Szayel.

These two hurt the most, deeper than the others for reasons the other four fairies didn't know, but understand in the ways a Zanpakuto spirit was unable from what Hanataro could tell.

This both did and did not help their trying to assimilate their abilities to help Hanataro.

Unohana tried to send the hairpins to stronger members of her division and this was quickly found to be a poor choice on the part of the Captain. The fairies felt the trick before Unohana's choice in a better healer, Isane, even tried to use them. The attempted replacement almost died, being sent with a group of 11th and 13th Division to confront a small group of deceptively quiet but strong Arrancar that went to feast in Karakura behind Aizen's back, and the fairies refused to feel guilty.

Why _shouldn't_ the Shinigami suffer when Orihime was in a much worse position and they had gone against her explicit wishes?

 _("The worst that can happen is that they kill me.")_

She'd even smiled at the time, a fact and a moment that wouldn't be erased from their memories as long as they lived. If they had to suffer, they would at least suffer with someone Orihime preferred.

* * *

Yamamoto had said that Gin was a traitor, had caused too much damage, could not be given a second chance when he was always going to waste it. Matsumoto's sobbing and cradling of the man's body beyond his sight meant very little to him as he looked upon Orihime and asked her if she understood.

Ichigo felt the war within himself of his understanding of Yamamoto's reasoning, and his disgust at his lack of regard for the sacrifice that, while coming far too late, was still something worth respecting.

Orihime's face was unreadable beside the substitute Shinigami and Hanataro; without speaking, however, she gave a small bow to Yamamoto, which was probably the best he was going to get from the woman, since it became obvious early on after her rescue that she held no inclination to speak to him if she could help it.

It was enough for him, he supposed, and Yamamoto followed after the Captains trailing around and asking for advice and assistance and so on all along the remains of the battlegrounds and among the other victims of Aizen's plans.

Ichigo tried to hold back dirty thoughts about Yamamoto and most of the Shinigami in their attitudes when it came to their treatment of Orihime, which honestly wasn't much at all, beyond her existing as a first aid kit.

Though as he seemed to fade into the crowd at some point nobody seemed to notice, and when Hanataro turned to ask her opinion on some of the possible strategies they would need to go over, to take her mind off of how Yamamoto had taken a harsh tone with her and lift her spirits like the fairies did for him and Ichigo took a moment to stop grinding his teeth to prevent himself from calling after him in what could bring a whole lot of aggression his way from the agitated Shinigami all around... Orihime just _wasn't_ there.

Wings fluttering around both of them brought their attentions to look up to find four of the fairies pointing back over toward's Rangiku; Lily and Ayame grinning madly at the boys, Baigon and Hinagiku perching on their shoulders, glaring at where Yamamoto must have disappeared.

They looked in the direction given and found Orihime walking slowly over to her friend and the woman's love of her life.

"Ah," Ichigo grinned, Hanataro making to move towards Orihime, to either prevent her from doing what she wanted, or to aid her. He wasn't sure, but he wasn't taking a chance.

She did not hesitate to call on Shun'O when she came to a stop before Rangiku and took a half-bowed position over Gin. Didn't even look over her shoulder when she felt more than heard Hanataro attempted approach.

With her change in self and change in perception, she really didn't _need_ to use Ayame in concert with Shun'O anymore. It seemed like a waste of energy and like using more than she really had to in one on one healing. Shun'O had agreed with her when she started following after the chaos that constantly followed Ichigo again, Tsubaki wondering off-handed and crass, "Shit, took you long enough to figure that out, huh?"

To tell the truth, that she thought on, smiling and to herself as Shun'O took up his position over Gin; this made it possible for Hanataro to heal and her to heal, made it possible for Hanataro to keep his preferred position of defense in a battle to care for others and for Orihime to fight back while moving forward from the girl she used to be.

She focused, Shun'O glowing bright with his healing power and her spiritual energy and Tsubaki perched on her shoulder, almost seeming bored...

 _(Gin woke up some five minutes later, the blood from his mortal_ (would have been mortal) _wounds having already dried in his mouth. So the first thing he did when he found himself breathing again was to spit. Choke up the red liquid and roll a little to side as bile caked his throat to make him vomit._

 _The second thing he did was look up, eyes actually wide open, to find Rangiku yanking him to her and thanking the other woman standing a few feet away from the pile of disgust on the ground not even inches away from where Rangiku was kneeling, sobbing into his hair._

 _The Kurosaki boy and the tiny healer that was got caught by Zaraki when the ryoka had gone and sent the Seireitei into chaos before Gin had left with Aizen both wandered over, seeming unsure, but pleased all the same as the much younger woman among them made a weird statement to a question he was certain must have been asked before he found himself before them._

 _"I said I understood," oh, it was the woman with the fairies; made sense, "I never told Yamamoto-san that I agreed."_

 _Ha. So she had a spine after all.)_

* * *

Kurosaki had gotten boring after the battle with Aizen that sent to scheming rat-bastard to prison. True, the woman had restored his powers almost five minutes after he lost them, which made him ridiculously grateful, as well as every single one of the friends he'd made among the worthless ass Shinigami, but he spent so much of his time back in the Living World it was hardly worth being upset they had been gone at all if he barely even used them.

"I have to catch up on schoolwork! I'm a teenager! I'll battle you after I finish my math homework!"

Grimmjow really didn't understand humans.

He didn't stop popping in on Kurosaki, of course, almost making a new game of just how annoying he'd have to be to get him to focus back on the much more interesting Arrancar. Does he really need this shiny thing attached to the ceiling? His oddly friendly little sister just baked cookies, better hurry before Grimmjow at them all! Hey, it's hot outside; bet the woman they rescued was at home naked!

That had certainly got Ichigo to forgo schoolwork and chase after Grimmjow all the way to Orihime's apartment, constantly shouting for the Hollow to leave her the hell alone and stop being a pervert!

...Which was how they'd ended up joining her for lunch and, somehow, their taking a quiet half-truce to sit at the table and stare with guilt churning in their bellies as Orihime walked around her apartment in shorts and a thin tank-top, all of her injuries they hadn't known about for months fully on display.

Her left eye was gone, for sure and certain. The skin around that lost feature was not too dissimilar, to Grimmjow, from the scar tissue along his chest that always reminded him about every fight he and Ichigo had in the past. Smooth and without detail.

It almost reminded him of when Loly had a go at the woman and the blood and bruising had taken hold before he could intervene.

Except it was permanent and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Szayel had been rather thorough in trying his hardest with messing with her. He didn't think a human could survive having so many holes slowly pierced into them. Like holes in those winter gloves in Ichigo's bedroom closet. Szayel had actually made it a point to go around the more vital organs and tendons and such to prolong the pain.

 _Urgh_.

Grimmjow actually shuddered to think about what the hell the creep had even _done_ with the eye. They hadn't found it when they'd ransacked the lab and it looked to have been gone from the socket for at least a couple of weeks.

He really hoped that he hadn't **_eaten_ ** it. That was just disgusting. More-so when he considered that she was only ever in Hueco Mundo to be used as bait to lure in Shinigami to rescue her and as a lab rat for amusement.

Grimmjow found himself caught staring at her again by Ichigo on his left at the table in Orihime's apartment. His foot struck down on Grimmjow's own and he wasn't so much hurt as he wasn't expecting it.

He glared at the human, baring his teeth and, despite himself, almost approved when the other gave as good as he got.

They must have looked like a couple of those weird "clown" things the asshole fairy of the woman's once described, and he snorted when it the stupid thought almost made him laugh.

This confused Ichigo, making his eyebrows scrunch and his head tilt, so Grimmjow counted it as a win.

"Ichigo-kun, Grimmjow-kun, do either of you want paprika and ginger with the cheese in your sandwiches?"

Both of them turned back to the woman, both of them _trying_ not to flinch when the sun streaming in from the open window in front of her actually passed through the holes in her body not covered by clothing, both of them echoing, "No, that's...fine."

* * *

The Shinigami from 11th Division had decided, rather unanimously, that it was really not worth picking on Hanataro anymore. Even from boredom.

The human woman that had openly defied Yamamoto-sama had made it a point to allow the medic continued use of four of her fairies.

As she had explained it, the war was over, she didn't want them to be bored with nothing to do but watch her continued existence on Earth when they could help Hanataro with Hollow attacks and other disturbances in Soul Society. She wasn't abandoning them, they could come home whenever they wanted, but...

They found that they _liked_ Hanataro. Like, really, really. He'd not found his feet, in their opinion, even if he was technically much older than Orihime, and they felt-Lily, Baigon, Hinagiku and Ayame-that they could help.

And, anyway, the 11th Division might have been taught a real lesson that would stick if they knew that Hanataro had a defense that could run their offense into the ground.

Hanataro quite enjoyed each time another Shinigami tried to bully him these days and realize they messed up when the Shun Shun Rikka brought up their shield and used it like a fan swatting away pesky flies.

Tsubaki probably would have been better in some instances, but Hanataro knew that the little man would never leave Orihime again as long as he could still be of service to her, and Shun'O and, well, honestly...

Tsubaki kind of scared Hanataro more than Captain Zaraki sometimes. After all, the fairy had outright told the man, _to his face_ , "Eat _shit_ , you fucker," when Grimmjow had showed up out of the blue those months ago during the war, looking both absurdly pissed off and something on the border of frantic, looking for Ichigo to take him and Hanataro himself to Orihime, saying that Szayel had been bragging and technically Grimmjow owed her still, "For my tattoo, y'know?" and Zaraki had been less than enthusiastic.

It was a little weird that this had led to Ikkaka searching him out for fights because of this, even more when even after their _(very short)_ battles Ikkaku still stuck around and actually added to Hanataro's questioning of the fairies about the Living World. And questioning Hanataro himself when he heard Unohana had actually sent them there and he'd gotten a job; short amount of time that it was.

 _"So, hold on, there are HOW MANY objects put on market in this convenience store you speak of?"_

Honestly, it felt good, this difference and change that he'd never asked for.

Still...Hanataro was grateful to Orihime for the chance to really make something of himself, but would he ever ask for help from Tsubaki again? _Never_.

* * *

 _+1 Possible_  
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The glass jar had milky green-blue fluid and a grey iris eye floating inside of it.

Ulquiorra didn't even look abashed, or concerned, or anything remotely different from the last time Grimmjow and Ichigo had seen _(heh, who were they kidding; fought)_ him. He just stood beyond the door frame to Ichigo's new apartment and held out the jar as if he was delivering a package that they were expecting months ago.

Orihime was inside, experiencing the painkillers that Hanataro had tried making for her that would actually allow her to sleep for more then three hours without waking up in agony after rolling onto her injured side or having to lay on the floor on her stomach with only the thinnest of blankets covering her because her spine was so fucked up from being tied to that table for so long.

Ichigo _(and who could have expected him to react first with anything but acceptance after all the crap in his life,)_ gave a heavy sigh and opened the door, waving absently for Ulquiorra to step past the door frame, "She's on the living room floor and drugged to the gills. Don't think it's rude if she bursts out laughing or crying or something, because that's one of the side-effects."

The Fourth nodded, bringing to attention that his skull head-piece was missing much like Grimmjow's own face-piece, and walked inside, jar cradled to his chest as he brushed by Grimmjow and stepped silently into the room with the television playing a documentary type showcase of an old nun giving what the men assumed were oral essays on classic art pieces. It was in English, but there was the shared feeling that it was less for the understanding that Orihime watched it and more for the calming, dulcet tones that helped her go to sleep a lot faster.

The drugs had obviously been quite powerful. She was asleep and barely moved in breathing.

Tsubaki was sulking on the coffee table near where Orihime had her head resting on the uninjured side, his bandana pulled down and revealing his face _(not handsome, not ugly; actually rather unremarkable among the group of people Orihime hung around with)_ as he munched on some left-overs Orihime had left out for anyone that wanted them. Cranberries with a side of minced mushrooms in gravy _(not as bad as it looked at first sight, honestly)_.

He gave no reaction to Ulquiorra's entrance, but Shun'O, having been perched on Orihime's too thin hip like a sick kitten, lifted his head and looked upon the Fourth with something... something hopeful and soft, beyond the facial scarring and phantom pains caused by his deep connection with the woman.

They both looked so small, which Ulquiorra had never really considered before when Orihime had been a captive. He had _known_ they were small, of course; he'd seen their battle and healing forms and could ascertain that they wouldn't be very big in comparison to the spirits of Zanpakuto, but it was different, somehow.

It made him feel something like he had been since the war had ended and Aizen was captured. That unpleasant twinge in his belly that he had learned, through trial and error, meant that he might be suffering from what humans called 'guilt' or 'regret' in their turns.

The little thesaurus he had found in Szayel's demolished lab, hand-held and sitting in his pocket as he wandered into the room with the flashing screen to take a seat on the low sofa, had proven to be quite effective in explanations to questions he had wanted to ask the woman before she'd been taken out of his care. It was to the point and bland, though.

 _(He couldn't help but think that the woman would have been better in giving details from life.)_

The blonde one was supposedly the leader of the fairies, from what he'd gathered of the woman's babbling when he'd once asked her to explain her powers and instead, to him and his poor social skills, endeavored to tell him about the collection of six small beings that were held in/made a home of her hairpins.

Hours sitting in that room, under the faint glow of the crescent moon that sat picture perfect beyond the bars of her window, he'd been made to picture in his mind her descriptions of her assault fairy _(who was rude, swore as much as Grimmjow, was constantly in a poor mood, pulled her hair almost every time he came out of the hairpins and made it a point to steal the sausages in her lunch in the human world when nobody was looking)_ , her shield fairies _(who seemed to personify the aesthetics of mad science with a heart "Like Doctor Jekyll without the Hyde!"; sporty, flirty gymnasts with a propensity to wear as much pink as possible; and Zen Buddhists always meditating in their own turn)_ and her healers _(sweet Ayame, whom shrouded herself in a dress that made her look like the prettiest little flower that ever lived; and sturdy, dependable, wonderful, brother-like Shun'O that always put Tsubaki in his place and made the others pay attention to the tasks at hand)_ had made Ulquiorra very familiar the the small creatures without ever having had to meet them.

With no preamble and no reason to be nervous _(he hadn't been the one to remove the visual appendage, after all; that had been Szayel and he'd already paid for it through the Sexta Espada and the human that had decided to return to the kitchen, observe his actions with a vague ease and making something that looked to be made entirely of meat in the small electronic device on the counter that was spinning the food under a light),_ Ulquiorra set the glass jar on the coffee table next to Tsubaki and spoke to Shun'O.

"I assumed that you would be able to re-implant this so that the woman can see properly once more. Were my assumptions correct?"

Dragging himself up off of Orihime with the kind of slowness and exhaustion that Ulquiorra recalled from being around Starrk, Shun'O fluttered slowly over to the glass jar, tapping on the lid and _( **probably** ; Ulquiorra could tell in this situation about as much as he could tell when he'd been around Ichimaru)_ looking at the former Fourth seriously, "If you could take it out, I could do my best and we'll see."

"Our tiny hands aren't exactly suited for prying lids off of jars," Tsubaki stated aloud, waving his hands back and forth like Ulquiorra was an idiot.

The Arrancar nodded, easily shifting to open the lid, and then gently _(the material surrounding the eye was not water, but was thick and almost like gel, and did not smell especially pleasant once the jar was open; this was made obvious by Grimmjow snorting and covering his face and mouth once he could a whiff of the stench, "What the fuck?!")_ brought the eye out and held it before the fairy.

Shun'O shook his head, fluttering over to Orihime's face and, with equal caution as Ulquiorra with the eye itself, took her closed eyelids in each of his hands and opened them wide so that the unoccupied dark hole was readied to be inhabited once more.

If he were anyone else, the pale man might have been morbidly amused that Ichigo, having wandered over to get a better look, actually gagged at the display in his living area. The ginger spent that last five or so years being covered in the blood and gore of his enemies in the defense of himself and others; a small orifice in someone's face, fairly clean and half-shadowed, should not have merited such a response, all things considered.

He'd known humans were strange, but honestly, that was a little pathetic.

Without having to be instructed, Ulquiorra positioned the nerve endings into the socket, Shun'O moving them where they needed to go, until the eye itself was balanced along the lids.

This was where Shun'O took full charge. He started glowing a bright orange hued gold, something like but-not-quite spiritual energy encompassing him and most of Orihime's face. The eyelids pulled wide, and the globe of the eye pushed without force into the shallow hollow in the woman's face as Shun'O started the healing process; the pupil widening and narrowing with the light he focused into it or removed and the iris seeming to be cleared of the dulled look it had while in the jar.

The blonde seemed pleased, letting the eyelids close languidly over the eye and rubbing his tiny hands over Orihime's face. If that didn't wake her up, then nothing would, but it made him feel better.

"We'll know if it worked when she wakes up. I think it did, but it'll be a couple hours until she can tell us," Shun'O stated, flitting back to his old perch and motioning around the room with his hand, "You are more than welcome to have dinner with us and wait until then. I think she'd like to see you, anyway."

Ulquiorra, not realizing that Grimmjow and Ichigo's meal had finished spinning, found himself being offered a portion of the meal by Ichigo, the human chewing on some of his own and Grimmjow taking his perch on the other side of the sofa, remote in hand and flicking through channels to find something that was less prissy.

The Hollow that only intended to stay just long enough to return the woman's property supposed, if he were being completely truthful to himself, had time.

* * *

Notes: The poetry is compliments of the irreverent and eternal Dorothy Parker.


End file.
